


The Kane Reunion

by BirdOfHermes



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Reunions, Family schmoop, pretend boyfriend, pretend girlfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9101014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: Lana's grandmother's 90th birthday is coming up and she's screwed if she doesn't find a date for the party. Archer volunteers. Against her better judgment, Lana agrees. Pre-season four confession, but after "Stage Two." Archer/Lana angst and UST.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this long before season four and the subsequent seasons where we find out Archer and Lana are actually still in love with each other, so most of this story was my headcanons about her family. It's also a slightly more mature interpretation of the two of them, since Archer is a comedy show and they can't really handle serious conversations. Here's how I think it would go if they did. Enjoy.

“Cyril, please.”

“No.”

“I mean it. Seriously. It’s just two days!”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why? It’s not like you have anything better to do—”

“Than what, Lana? Fly to Detroit for your grandmother’s birthday celebration and pretend to be your boyfriend to get your pushy parents to shut up?”

Sterling Archer really hadn’t been paying that much attention to the argument as he passed by the break room until the words “pretend” and “boyfriend” were uttered in the general vicinity of his ex-girlfriend.

He poked his head in the room, arching an eyebrow at the arguing duo. “Wait, what?”

As soon as she spotted him, Lana groaned. “Nothing, Archer.”

“Wait,” he said, suppressing a fresh bout of giggles. “You need someone to pretend to be your boyfriend to shut your parents up…and you picked Cyril?”

“Hey!” the bespectacled man cried. “If this is some kind of reverse psychology thing, it’s not going to work.”

“No, that’s regular psychology, Cyril. You are the Windows 8 of people.”

Archer returned his attention to the exasperated Lana. “But seriously, though, what the shit, Lana. You’re obviously desperate if you’re crawling to him for help. Why don’t you just not go?”

“I can’t, Archer,” she answered, caving in if only because she knew he’d pester her until she spilled. “It’s my Nana’s 90th birthday. If I don’t go, she’ll have a heart attack and my family will blame it on me.”

“Sounds like you’d be doing her a favor—ow!” She slapped his arm and he rubbed the spot. “Dammit! I’m gonna bruise!”

“I don’t care! Would you just leave?”

“Would you just wise up and ask me to go with you?”

“Because I’d rather go alone than show up with you.”

Cyril chuckled from behind his soda and Archer glared. “Why? I’m tall, good looking, and filthy rich. You could do worse. Hell, you were doing worse before I saved you.”

“Hey!”

“If you want some hay, go to a barn. Beat it, Cyril!” Archer growled.

“Fine by me!” Cyril huffed, hurrying out of the room despite Lana’s protest.

“Archer, I’m not taking you. End of story. I have plenty of other options. I was just asking Cyril because he already knew stuff about me and wouldn’t have to fake it in front of my family.”

“So do I.”

Lana stared at him. “Archer, what’s my mother’s name?”

“Delores.”

She jumped. Blinked a couple times in rapid succession. “How…how the hell did you remember that?”

“Oh my God, Lana, are you kidding? You wouldn’t shut up about how she disapproves of your career choice and how she hates that you aren’t married and don’t have a million cocoa-colored babies to show off to her poker buddies. I have ears, y’know.”

She narrowed her green eyes at him. “What’s my dog’s favorite toy?”

“That chewed up string bikini your dad bought your mom as a joke gift.”

“How many siblings do I have?”

“One.”

“Older or younger?”

“Younger.”

“Does my dad wear glasses?”

“Only when he’s reading.”

“What does my mom do for a living?”

“She owns a bakery.”

“I can‘t—you can’t remember your own blood type and you remember all this crap about my family? Where was this kind of devotion when we were dating?”

“Hey, I didn’t say I enjoy remembering all this stuff!” Archer shot back, pointing at her. “But it was really hard getting into your pants so I pretended to care and then accidentally remembered it all because you never shut up!”

She threw up her hands. “Why am I not surprised? Goodbye, Archer.”

She stomped out of the room. He watched her go, and then rubbed his arm again. “Like frickin’ cricket bats.”

“I heard that!”

*

His phone rang at half past midnight while he lay dozing on the couch in front of his 157th viewing of Deliverance. The sound didn’t wake him, but Woodhouse’s frail hand shaking his shoulder did.

“Woodhouse, if you turn off that DVD, I will skin you alive,” he muttered automatically, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. You have a phone call.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Take a message. Or die. I don’t care which one you choose.”

“It’s Miss Kane.”

He snatched the phone. “Lana?”

“The plane leaves at noon. Be there at eleven. If you’re late, I’m risking it on my own. Wear nothing but suits and do not mention anything about ISIS or your mother. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, but—”

“If you mention anything related to the words ‘danger’ and ‘zone’ I’m going to open the airlock while we’re in the air and kill us all.”

“…fine. Be that way. You’re welcome, Lana.”

A dial tone answered him. He hung up. A slow smile crept across his lips.

“Woodhouse!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Break out the suits. We’re going to Detroit.”

*

She staunchly refused to look at him the entire time during bag check in, waiting to be seated, and even during takeoff. He sat there with the most irritatingly smug smirk and she had no desire to remind herself of what she’d just gotten into.

“So—”

“Nooooope,” Lana cut him off. “No talking. It’s bad enough I’ll have to do that while we’re there.”

“Oh, come on, Lana, at least give me some details. Like why the hell a ninety-year-old has a party that last two days.”

“All of my family members couldn’t make it on Saturday so they split the party into two days so that everyone gets to see her,” she answered from behind the pages of an issue of Ebony. “There. Shut up.”

“Where are we staying?”

“At the Four Seasons. And no, we’re not sharing a room.”

“Fair enough. What kind of present did we get your Nana?”

“I had the rose she wore to prom set in quartz and made into a necklace.”

“Wow. That’s…actually pretty thoughtful.”

One edge of the magazine tipped down as Lana stole a glance at him. He wasn’t mocking her. “I don’t think Mother even went to school. She had private tutors. I couldn’t get her something like that. She’d probably laugh her ass off and ask if I switched teams.”

“Classic her,” Lana said before he could. “I know. Now, in regards to the shutting up…”

“Can you even imagine the poor sap taking her to prom? She’d probably steal his car to go get booze and hit a frat boy party. Y’know, if they had that back in the Cretaceous period.”

A giggle threatened to build in her stomach. She did her best to squash it.

“Oh my God, what if he got her a corsage? She’d probably shove it down his throat and call him a queer and stuff him in the trunk like on Sixteen Candles.”

Her hands were shaking. The mental image was too rich. She was starting to laugh. “Can you imagine how’d she react to the Prom Queen if she were the runner up? She’d probably fill her punch cup with rat poison so she’d win by default.”

Now they were both giggling like teenagers and gasping for air. The other people in first class sent them weird looks but neither of them noticed.

Archer wiped the corner of his eye. “That is definitely going to comfort me for the rest of this weekend. Mallory Archer, Prom Queen of the Damned.”

Lana finally managed to get her laughter under wraps. “Right? That should be the name of those memoirs she keeps threatening to write.”

“The day those come out, I think print is officially deader than Herman Melville.”

A strangely comfortable silence descended then. Archer tapped his fingers against his arm rest.

“So…how long have we been fake dating?”

“Five months.”

“Wait, why not six?”

“Because it’s not too long that they’ll start asking why we haven’t moved in together and not too short that they think we’re just fooling around.”

“Wow. You’ve really thought this out.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s been bugging me for a month. If we don’t pull this off, I’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll make sure to use the words ‘sad, pathetic old maid’ at the end of every sentence during my eulogy.”

“What’s my cover?”

“You’re an investment banker. Always safe and easy because no one actually knows what they do.”

“But that’s so boring. Why can’t I be something fun like a professional lacrosse player or something?”

“Because that’s not a thing, Archer,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And professional athletes are really easy to prove as a lie. Stick with the banker persona.”

“But doesn’t that mean I have to be stuffy and boring and talk like my teeth are glued together?”

“Yes. You’re a walking Ken doll. Just be pretty and smile and don’t be yourself.”

“I would just like to point out the fact that if this situation were reversed, that would be really sexist.”

“I…” Lana paused. “Oh shit, that’s right. Well…fine. You can’t be yourself, but you can still have a personality. Choose someone else’s.”

He opened his mouth and she cut him off again. “Not Burt Reynolds in Deliverance.”

“Dammit!” He crossed his arms and pouted. “I already knew all the lines and everything.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else. And one last thing.”

“Which is?”

“I…may not have told them you’re white.”

“Is that going to matter?”

“Oh, yes. Believe me, it will. So just be prepared and under no circumstances are you to retaliate in any way, shape, or form.”

“Retaliate? Jesus, Lana. What am I gonna do? Cut some holes in a sheet and burn a cross into their front yard? I expected you to be a bit more racially sensitive. Did you never watch Roots?”

“…this is gonna be the longest weekend of my life.”

*

Archer wasn’t entirely sure of what to expect as they drove the rental car through a labyrinth of nice suburban neighborhoods until they reached a pale yellow two-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac. There were tons of cars already parked and he could hear the distant thump of R&B music oozing from the backyard. The house stood up on a healthy yard of perfectly cut grass and the front porch was surrounded in azalea bushes.

“I didn’t know houses like this exist.”

Lana narrowed her eyes at him as she parked the car. “Houses like what?”

“Like the ones in that episode of the X-Files where Mulder and Scully were pretending to be newlyweds to find out what kind of freaky shit was going on behind closed doors.”

“Well, don’t let the looks fool you. There’s a lot more to the Kane family than what you see here.” She climbed out and opened the trunk, getting out the bags of gifts for her nieces. Archer scooped the heavier ones out of her hands despite her protests and squared his shoulders, inhaling deeply as the two of them walked towards the house.

Lana unlatched the gate and immediately fixed a friendly smile on her face. “Hey, guys!”

“Auntie Lana!” Two twin girls with matching pigtails—one dressed in light green and one in light pink—immediately raced towards her with their arms spread. She dropped the bags and scooped them up in her arms, peppering their round cheeks with kisses.

“How are my best girls?”

“We’re so glad you came!” the one in green beamed. “Mama said you might not.”

Lana resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She turned with them in her arms, nodding towards the already slightly uncomfortable Archer, who kicked the fence shut with his heel.

“Girls, this is Jack. Say hi.”

“Uh, hey,” Archer said.

They both giggled into their hands. “Wow, he’s cute. Is he your boyfriend?”

“Why, yes, he is. So don’t get any funny ideas.” She pretended to scowl at them and they laughed harder. Lana deposited them on the lawn and nodded to Archer.

“This is Jodie,” she said, gesturing to the one in green. “And this is Jemma.”

“Nice to meet you,” the little ones chorused.

Archer smiled, surprised that it came to him naturally. They were adorable, after all. “Back atcha, kids.”

“Did you bring us some toys, auntie?”

“That I did, but you’ll have to wait until later to play with them. Let me go in and say hi to everyone.”

“Okay!” they chirped, racing towards the backyard.

Lana picked up the bags and hopped over the bicycles the girls had left in their wake while Archer brought up the rear, his voice low.

“Jack? Really? That’s the best you could do.”

“Oh, shut up, it was spur of the moment,” she hissed as they walked towards the porch.

“What’s wrong with my real name?”

“My family knows I had an ex named Archer who was an asshole. And apparently still is.” She shot him one last glare before her face transformed into another beautiful smile as she spotted a relative.

“Hey, Aunt Willie,” she said, hugging the older woman perched on a rocking chair. She was mid-sixties, short, and had cropped grey hair and freckles. She balanced on a cane as she stood up to appraise her relative.

“Lana, baby! So good to see you! I’m glad you made it.”

Her brown eyes immediately locked onto Archer and filled with both curiosity and suspicion. “And who is this handsome devil?”

“This is Jack.”

Archer nodded to the older woman. “Ma’am.”

A wicked smile touched Aunt Willie’s lips. “You introduce him to your mother yet?”

Lana’s smile faded a couple of watts. “Not yet.”

“Ooh, please come get me when you do. She’ll throw a fit that her baby girl hit the jackpot.”

Lana sighed. “Don’t encourage him.”

The older woman chuckled. “Well, get on inside and get yourself something to eat before it’s gone. I’ll be here for a couple hours so come catch up with me when you get the chance.”

“Will do.” They opened the screen door that led into the foyer, and Archer had to pause for a second to take it all in. He’d lived in New York for his entire life, so he rarely stepped foot inside an actual home unless it was mission-related. The foyer stretched up two floors to reveal the staircase and a peek of three bedrooms directly across. The dining room was to the left and the den to the right. A hallway led straight ahead to the kitchen where he could smell a myriad of things that made his gin-soaked stomach growl with hunger—collard greens, cornbread, baked beans, pork roast, macaroni and cheese, sweet corn on the cob, barbeque ribs, grilled salmon, and an assortment of cakes and pies.

“Well, don’t stand there drooling on the welcome mat,” Lana said, though he caught the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Do we have to make our rounds or can I eat first? I’m starving. Like, high-on-Mexican-marijuana-level starving.”

“You’ll live. We have to put our stuff down first and make kissy face before we get to eat. It’s Kane tradition,” she told him, leading him into the dining room. A huge table laden with gifts addressed to “Nana Rose” sat in the middle of the hardwood floor, surrounded by flower-patterned chairs. They found some room in the corner to place the bags. Archer couldn’t help noticing something as they went.

“Is someone compensating for something? I swear, like half of these are from your sister, Jenna.”

Lana rolled her eyes. “Yes, they are. She’s a big time reporter in Chicago now, and so she has to whip it out at every single family event to remind us that she’s well-off.”

Archer arched an eyebrow. “Bet that gets old.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she muttered. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

She started for the door, but he caught her wrist. She glanced at him in question and he laced his fingers with hers, sending her a challenging but sincere grin. “Boyfriend, remember?”

“Try not to enjoy it so much.”

“I’m hiding the pain, don’t worry.”

She shook her head, but didn’t pull away, leading him to the kitchen where he could already hear uproarious laughter and animated voices.

“Hey, guys,” Lana said with a bright smile to the three people in the kitchen. Archer did his usual Sherlock scan out of pure habit rather than worry. The woman on the far right by the oven was tall and willowy with streaks of grey in her permed hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a sweater and jeans that fit snugly without giving too much away, and as soon as he saw her cheekbones, he knew it was Lana’s mother, Delores.

The man to the left of her was mid-twenties, muscular, good-looking and wearing an expensive suit jacket over a blue button up t-shirt and ironed jeans (to which Archer nearly rolled his eyes). The Rolex on his left wrist was 100% real. He held a glass of white wine in his left hand. A wedding ring glinted on his finger.

The woman to the right of him made Archer pause longer than expected, because she was an absolute knockout. She stood a couple inches shorter than Lana, but more than made up for the height difference with long, smooth legs, a toned stomach, and that hourglass figure most women would kill to have. Her hair was cut short and was oiled into artful waves. Real diamonds winked in her ears. She wore a black dress with a high belt just beneath her bustline, pushing up her generous breasts just a tad. She looked to be right at twenty-four years old, and was every bit as stunning as her older sister.

“Lana!” Delores cried, ditching her oven mitt and wrapping her daughter in a hug. “So happy you caught your flight. I’ve missed you so much.”

She kissed her forehead, and Lana, to Archer’s endless amusement, actually blushed a bit. “Good to see you too, Ma.”

Lana cleared her throat and gave a rather stiff hug to the man next to her and then an even stiffer hug to her younger sister. “Good to see you two. How are you?”

Lana’s sister let out a throaty chuckle that made Archer’s stomach tighten with all sorts of feelings, none of which he should have been entertaining. “We’re doing well, big sis. Happy to see you. I feel like it’s been forever.”

She cut her green eyes over to Archer and something wicked sparkled in them. “Maybe it has been. You’ve finally caught yourself a man.”

Lana smiled through her teeth. “He’s a person, not a fish, Jenna. This is Jack Sterling.”

Archer offered his hand, doing his best to look handsome and dashing and not like he was totally into Lana’s younger sister. “Nice to meet you.”

They shook it and he turned to Delores only to receive an actual hug. He patted her back awkwardly in surprise. She drew back and rubbed his shoulders, beaming.

“Welcome to the family, Jack. It’s so good to meet you.”

“Uh, same,” Archer said, stepping back, fighting the urge to look as befuddled as he felt. She was so nice. What the hell was Lana bitching about before? They were saints compared to his mother.

With that, she removed the baked ham from the oven and headed over to the table on the other side of the kitchen to begin slicing it.

“I’m so glad you met someone new, Lana,” Jenna said after sipping her wine. “We were all worried that worthless jerk of yours was still stringing you around. What was his name again? Something beginning with an R, I think.”

Archer’s left eyebrow twitched. Lana looked as if she wanted to mount her sister’s head on the towel rack a few feet away. “Archer.”

“Oh, right, that guy. He sounded like such an asshole. I’m happy you found someone new.”

Jenna sent him another glance. “I hope you’re taking care of her. She works way too hard.”

“Well, some of us have bills to pay. Not everyone has a six figure salary.” Archer caught on to the venom lacing her tone and covertly stepped closer to her as he felt the tension mounting.

Jenna let out a melodramatic sigh. “No, I guess not. Charlie and I were just discussing that on the way here from the Four Seasons.”

Lana’s spine stiffened. Archer wound his arm around her waist, jumping in before she could retaliate.

“Wow, what a coincidence. We booked a suite there. Maybe we can meet for breakfast in the morning.”

Jenna stroked her husband’s arm, batting her eyelashes. “That sounds lovely. What do you think, honey?”

He smiled dotingly down at her. “Perfect, angel.”

Archer suppressed the urge to roll his eyes yet again. Two words and he was already sure he hated this guy. “Great. So how about some grub? I’m starving.”

“Help yourself,” Delores chimed in from the serving table. “There’s plenty to go around.”

“Excuse us,” Archer said, hastily guiding Lana away from the couple. She went willingly and they filled their plates up with food before retreating to a secluded spot in the rock garden outside.

“Jesus, Lana. I thought you were going to start barking at one point. Ow!” He rubbed his shin after she kicked him.

“Shut up. You don’t get it. She practically exists just to show me up.”

“Come on, Lana, she’s your sister. Aren’t they supposed to be annoying?”

Lana stabbed her sliced pork with a fork, scowling at it. “There’s a difference. She just had to bring you into this, didn’t she? I knew she would rub that in my face.”

Archer adopted a lopsided grin. “Hmm, rubbing your face in me sounds like a pretty good idea. Maybe later back at the hotel.”

She glared. “Yeah, nice work, by the way. Why’d you invite them to breakfast? The last thing I want to see in the morning is her stupid face.”

“Her face is not stupid.” He immediately realized it sounded too complimentary and continued onward.  
“Especially since you two look like twins. You’re insulting yourself there, genius.”

The scowl deepened. “Everyone always says she’s prettier because she’s younger.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t last forever, alright? And you’re a bombshell. Anyone with eyeballs knows that,” he said before shoveling greens into his mouth. He almost cried with joy. It tasted even better than it smelled. He was definitely going back for seconds. And he was totally going to make Woodhouse cook it for his dinner when they got home.

He felt Lana’s gaze from across the small table, doing his best not to return it because he could practically feel her insecurity. “You think I’m hotter than her?”

“On a technical level?”

The scowl returned. “Ugh, nevermind. I’m going to get a drink.”

“Bring me one back?” She stalked off without a reply. He sighed. Ingenious. He was supposed to be her support system and here he was drooling over her younger sister like a bloodhound. New low.

“Hey, you.”

Archer paused in the middle of his sweet potatoes, turning his head to see Jenna standing next to the table, one hand on her curvy hip, the other still nursing the white wine. Her white teeth drew attention to those heart-shaped lips painted scarlet with lipstick. He caught himself wondering how easily it would come off and mentally slapped himself into behaving.

“Hey back.”

“Mind if I sit?”

“Uh, that’s actually Lana’s seat, but—”

The petite girl sat anyway and crossed her legs, accidentally brushing his calf with the toe of her sandals. He suppressed a shudder and fixed his eyes on his food yet again.

“So what’s up?” Jenna asked. “Are you two serious?”

“Pretty serious, yeah. I take it Lana doesn’t bring a lot of guys home.”

“But she brought you home. You must be pretty important.”

He shrugged. Her eyelids lowered. “You know, I’ve seen the kinds of guys she goes out with, but you’re different.”

He couldn’t resist tempting fate. “How’s that?”

“You two have chemistry. I saw the way she looked at you a minute ago. She trusts you, doesn’t she?”

Not nearly as much as I deserve, he thought morosely. “Kinda goes with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t get it. I can see through her fake boyfriends. The last couple times I visited her in New York, she had these paper-thin disguised boy-toys to save face for her. That’s not what you are. I can tell.”

Archer studied her for a moment, trying to figure out what she was after, when he felt it. Her toes skimming the inside of his leg. Not so accidental after all.

He swallowed the last bit of food and wiped his mouth, edging his leg away for science. A moment later, her foot returned. Little sister was not so little.

“So that breakfast invitation,” Jenna said, after another mouthful of wine. “What if we canceled and changed it to dinner?”

The intonation at “dinner” was clear. Husky. Full of dark promise. He stared at her wedding ring before answering. “Is Charles not much of a breakfast person?”

She didn’t even flinch. “No, he’s not. He doesn’t eat a lot. I’m betting you do. You look like you have a healthy appetite.”

Selfish desire consumed him for a moment or two, and he beat it down as best as he could, but her toes skimmed the sensitive part of his knee and his voice ripped from his throat without his permission.

“Let me think about it.”

Jenna smiled and drained her glass, slinking out into the garden without another word. Archer shifted in his seat until he was more comfortable and heaved a sigh, massaging his temples.

“The hell are you doing, Archer?”

“I was just about to ask you that.” He jumped and lowered his hand to see Lana had returned with two beers in her hands. She handed him one and sat down, eying him.

“Something happen while I was gone?”

He shook his head, drinking the beer and wincing as it went down. He wasn’t much for beer, more liquor than anything else, but he needed the alcohol if he was going to be able to live with himself.

“So where’s Nana Rose?”

“She’ll be here in a little while. Getting her hair done. Well, her wig.”

Archer snorted out a laugh and she kicked him in the shin. “Don’t laugh. That’s not nice.”

“Sorry, I literally just pictured a wig barber shop and it was the best thing ever.”

“You are such an idiot.” But she was smiling before she took another sip and in the failing sunlight, it was gorgeous and he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for even thinking of sleeping with her sister. But what the hell did it matter? She wasn’t really his anyway. They were playing House. Nothing more, nothing less.

*

After a few (nasty, tasteless) beers, it was way easier to mingle with the guests at the party. Some he could tell were taken aback by his race, but after he whupped some of the men of the family in a few games of pool, they warmed to him. He noticed that getting Lana away from her sister allowed him to see a completely different side to her: comfortable Lana. She was always high-strung and yell-y and scary and difficult at work, but here…he couldn’t quite grasp what her family did to her. She softened. She still made snappy comments of endless sarcasm and glared and got offended when people poked fun at her monstrous hands, but her smiles were real. She was appreciated here.

Half the evening he spent in the background, tuning out talk of sports and muscle cars because he was too busy watching her from over a glass of Long Island tea. She was fascinating. Why the hell hadn’t he seen it before?

Nana Rose arrived not long after Lana said she would and she didn’t pay Archer much attention, but he let it slide. Some older folks didn’t find interracial couples to be kosher just yet. Besides, it was 48 hours. What did he care if the old crone didn’t like him? He’d never see her again.

After a trip to the bathroom, Archer took a quick tour around the house thanks to sheer curiosity. They had photos up on the shelves of extended family, Little League trophies, and fat photo albums bursting with life. They had wooden carvings and pottery and real flowers in vases. The Kane family was something he’d never seen firsthand before: authentic. It wasn’t all repression and booze. He suddenly understood why in spite of all the shit he put her through, Lana always bailed him out. They’d actually bothered to raise her. The very notion that his bitchy ex-girlfriend had a heart made his head hurt.

The faint, fond smile on Archer’s lips as he headed towards the den faded as the sound of two female voices reached his ears, both of them hot like the sausage links that had been on the grill.

“I don’t need her help, Mom. I have my own career. I have my own place. I’m not uprooting just because swears she can get me a better job.”

“Lana, she just wants what’s best for you—”

“No, she wants what’s best for her reputation. She’s not going to pull this on me. Not now. Not after the last time.”

“Lana, you have your whole life ahead of you and you can’t keep wasting it on a dead end job.”

“Who says my job is dead end? Maybe I like what I do. And I am brilliant at it.”

“I don’t doubt that, but you aren’t going to be young and beautiful forever. You need to think about your future.”

“My future is fine. So am I. Are we done now?”

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, Lana. Especially not after you don’t call and you don’t visit but two times a year.”

“Oh, so that’s my fault now? Why am I surprised? You’d do anything to shift the blame on me so your precious Jenna can be the ‘good’ child.”

“Stop blaming her for your short temper!”

“Maybe I would if you’d stop making excuses for her!”

Archer backtracked a few steps as the door flew open with a bang. He cleared his throat as he heard Lana’s titanic, angry steps down the hall and intercepted her as she passed in front of him.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Archer said in what he hoped as a soothing tone. “Relax. What’s going on? You got as loud as I do with Mother. Y’know, except with less whiskey bottles thrown at my head.”

She jerked her arm free, not meeting his eyes. “Not now, Archer. I need some fresh air.”

He stepped in front of her, frowning. “Why does that sound like code for ‘I’m gonna get rip-roaring drunk and bang the first non-Archer stranger I see until I feel better’?”

She leaned in close, snarling from inches away, “Either you move or I’ll move your head in one direction and the rest of you in another.”

He sighed and moved away, letting her pass. He watched as she snatched her purse from the coat hanger and slammed the front door shut, leaving him alone to catch a cab. Fine. He knew her habits. Give her two hours and she’d come crawling back. She needed her space.

He said a brief goodbye to the family and promised them they’d be back tomorrow for the big party before calling a cab back to the Four Seasons. He went to his room, drank half the mini-bar, and then passed out in bed.

Several horrendously loud knocks at his door catapulted him awake. His head ached as he sat up, squinting at the clock on the nightstand. Half-past midnight.

“Better not be room service,” he growled, slouching towards the door in a slightly crooked line. “Or if it is, she’d better be in a French maid costume.”

He snatched the door open with a death glare only to find himself face-to-face with a rather sloshed Lana.

“Took you long enough,” she grumbled, shoving past him and into his hotel room.

“Lana?” She didn’t answer, instead shedding her coat on the marble floor and making a beeline for his bed.

“Lana. Lana. Lanaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

“WHAT?”

“What the hell are you doing? Your room is next door.”

“What do you think I’m doing here, stupid?”

He paused, watching as she shirked off her sweater dress and kicked her long, toned legs out of those knee high boots that secretly drove him insane with lust. “I’m just taking a guess here, but soliciting me for an admittedly pathetic but still hot session of pity sex.”

“Yuuuuuup.” She slunk towards him, her gait a bit unsteady, but it didn’t lessen her appeal thanks to the Fiacci matching bra and panties and the look in her eyes that said if he let her, she was going to fuck him absolutely silly.

“Couldn’t find anyone in the hotel bar worth nailing, huh?” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist half out of habit, and half out of arousal. She buried her face in his neck, her voice sulky.

“Noooooope.”

She shifted enough to kiss one of the scars on his collarbone and he hummed, his eyes closing. God, the smell of her shampoo and the cocoa butter on her skin made him hard in less than five seconds. Lana was walking aphrodisiac and dynamite mixed together. He never knew if she was going to kill him or give him one of those kisses of hers that made his brain stem implode.

He tilted his head down to meet her and she kissed him fearlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her tongue darted out to meet his and he tasted several things—a pinch of salt from a margarita, some Vodka, and the sharpness of tequila. She leaned into him for support, unsteady on her toes, and his brain bounced the facts back to him. _Drunk. Not a good idea. She’ll hate herself in the morning even more than she hates you if you do this. Especially if she finds out you were making plans to fuck her sister._

That last thought made him pull away at long last, though his entire body was flushed and screaming at him to get naked already. “So, funny thing…you’re kind of sloppy drunk and maybe we shouldn’t have wicked hot sex when you can’t even stand up straight.”

“I won’t be standing up straight,” Lana sighed into his mouth. “Because you’re going to fuck me on the bed in just a minute.”

Archer shivered. _Maybe just the tip. No, no, focus, stupid._ “We’re fake-dating, Lana, not real dating. You’ll have to make a proper lady out of me if you want that.”

Lana’s eyes opened slightly and the look in them melted about half of his common decency. “You’ve never cared about me before. Don’t start now.”

Something inside Archer’s chest withered at her words. “Look, I just think maybe sleep would be a better idea for once.”

He jerked against her as she twined her long fingers around his cock through the boxer-briefs. “Sure. We can sleep after we’re doing fucking each other’s brains out.”

It took the remainder of his will power to knock her hand away. “Damn it, Lana, I’m trying to take care of you for once. Maybe I am just a drunken piece of shit, but you’re not. You’re worth something. Don’t go wasting it on me, alright?”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. “Wh-What did you just say?”

He buried a hand in his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve had a few. Just…come on. Sleep. You need sleep, not sex.”

He caught her wrist and dragged her towards the bed, refusing to look at her again because if he did, he’d toss her on the mattress and fuck the living daylights out of her. He was an idiot. Any other time and place and he’d be balls-deep in her right now, listening to those delicious moans she made when she was about to come around him, but all he could think about was her mother’s genuine smile when she welcomed him into the family. One night, and now he was a goddamn morally sound human being. No wonder people hated family reunions.

Lana said nothing as he tore the rumpled sheets and fluffy comforter back on the bed and gave her a shove. She fell obediently onto the bed, her black hair mussed, some of it falling across her strangely cooperative expression. He reached down to start pulling the covers up over her, but she caught him by the shoulders, dragging him up to meet her until he had to crawl to be level with her.

She kissed him with surprising gentleness and he couldn’t help himself. He pressed his long, muscular body down on her, his knees unconsciously parting her legs so he could settle between them. Her skin was still warm and fragrant and smoother than butter. He longed to push her panties aside and dip his fingers inside her, or better yet, his cock. But he couldn’t. Support system, and all that jazz.

She stroked the side of his face and rested her forehead against his, her voice small. “Thanks, Archer.”

He smiled. “Go to sleep, stupid.”

*

Archer awoke flailing the next morning on account of the room phone ringing loudly right next to his head on the nightstand.

“GODDAMMIT,” he announced, aiming the gun he always slept with under the pillow at the offending noise, considering taking a few shots, but the roaring headache reminded him he’d probably miss. Plus, paying for damages at the Four Seasons was a bad idea, Malory’s credit card or otherwise.

He set the gun on the nightstand and answered the phone with a venomous, “WHAT?!”

“Good morning to you too, son,” a slightly amused baritone voice answered.

Archer frowned, rubbing his sinuses. “Son? Did Mother finally track down whatever alcoholic sociopath she slept with thirty-something years ago?”

The man chuckled. “Ah, no. This is Lana’s father, Marshall.”

Archer went still. “Oh. Shit. Um, sorry, I was just, uh, kidding. What can I do for you, Mr. Kane?”

“The wife and I were just wondering if you two wanted to join us for breakfast.”

“Just you?”

“Well, us and Lana’s sister.”

Archer glanced aside at Lana. She slept on her belly, one arm slung across his chest, only parts of her touching him beneath the comforter. Neither the phone nor his aggravated screaming had made her even stir the slightest bit. “To tell you the truth, we’re both a bit out of it. What time?”

“Oh, in a couple hours. We’d really like you to make it.”

Archer resisted the urge to sigh. “Alright. Where?”

“Good man. There’s a bakery downtown called Go Nuts Doughnuts. Ten thirty work for you?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Archer hung up and flung himself backwards on the bed, palming his face. “I reiterate: goddammit.”

After a moment, he rolled onto his side towards Lana. She’d at least shifted so that she wasn't snorkeling in the mattress any longer, her hair haphazardly lying all over her forehead. Lana was never cute except when she slept and he caught himself smiling at the thought. It couldn’t last. Nothing involving the two of them ever did.

Archer cleared his throat and shook her shoulder. “Lana, wake up.”

She made a protesting noise—part groan and part whine. He chuckled. “I’m up and I bet a blowjob that I drank twice as much as you did. Get your lazy perfect ass up already.”

She mumbled his name and her hand slid down the center of his abs to his crotch, most likely out of habit. Archer shuddered and contemplated letting her hand stay there for a while, but voted against it. After about thirty seconds.

He pushed up on one hand and gave her shapely backside a rather hard flick with his middle finger. Lana’s spine arched and she snorted, finally waking up.

“What the shit, Archer?” she snarled, smacking his hand away and rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, don’t get snippy with me that you’re up. Blame your Dad for inviting us to breakfast.”

She blinked at him a couple times. “Breakfast? Now?”

“No, in a couple hours. That way you can put some makeup on and drink coffee to deal with the massive hangover you’re about to have.”

Lana groaned, pressing a hand to her head. “No shit. What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Hence why I asked, shitass.”

“You stormed off after arguing with your mom, got loaded, couldn’t find anyone decent to bang in all of Detroit, came back here, tried to molest me, and then promptly passed out.”

She squinted at him. “Tried? So you’re saying we didn’t...”

“Would I be this cranky if I had gotten into your admittedly nice panties?”

She paused. “Alright, point taken. Just…order room service to bring sixteen pots of coffee and thirty bottles of Advil and I’ll be fine.”

She slid out of bed, wobbling at bit as she headed for the bathroom. Archer dialed room service and sat on the mattress, listening to the water from the sink run as Lana cleaned up.

“Anything I need to know about your Dad?” he called to her.

“He’s a professor. Teaches at Oxford. He’s the black sheep of the family, metaphorically speaking.”

“How so?”

“He’s always, I don’t know, cheerful. Maybe you have to be to be married to my mother.”

“Or you,” Archer muttered, reaching for the flask sitting next to the phone for a swig.

“He said your sister’s gonna be there too.”

The water shut off abruptly. Archer winced. Lana opened the door, scowling. “Then I’m not going.”

“Lana, for fuck’s sake, can you be an adult for one more day? He sounded like he really wants you to be there.”

She crossed her arms beneath her chest, glaring. “Since when do you care?”

He glared right back. “Since I don’t have a father, you gigantic shrieking harpy.”

Surprise stole across her face. Archer rarely said anything that left her speechless, so he pressed forward before she could retaliate. “So shut up, get dressed, and sober up. We’ve got eight more hours of this crap and then we can go back to shooting terrorists in the dick and you can go back to hating my guts. Everything will be jolly frickin’ Rogers, alright?”

He took another deep swig from the flask. Lana stayed stock-still for a long moment. Then she walked over to the bed, picked up his discarded robe, put it on, tied it, kissed him on the cheek, and left the hotel room without another word.

*

Go Nuts Doughnuts had a line out the door when their cab pulled up to the curb. Lana had told him her mother started it back when she was around eight years old, as it had always been a dream of hers to own a business, and do what she loved at the same time. It had thrived enough that there were no franchise doughnuts shops or bakeries in the surrounding area for miles.

Lana got out first and Archer paid the cabbie before unconsciously reaching for her hand to maintain their guise of being lovers. Surprisingly, this time she didn’t stiffen or make a face at him. She just excused her way past the line to a table in the corner where her family had gathered.

Dr. Marshall Kane was tall and thin with grey hair at his temples and threaded through his goatee, his smile bright underneath the facial hair. Archer found himself surprised that he looked so plain compared to the Kane women, who were all gorgeous and built while he was completely unassuming.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, giving him a hug as he stood.

“Hey, sweet pea,” her father said, squeezing her tight. She stepped aside, brandishing a hand at Archer.

“This is Jack.”

Marshall shook his head, beaming. “Yes, good to meet you, son. I gotta say I’m a little shocked she introduced us. My baby’s always secretive about her personal life. She must really like you.”

Lana rolled her eyes. “Dad, please don’t help his ego.”

Her father winked. “If he’s won you over, he won’t need my help at all.”

She gave him a playful shove and he returned to his seat, patting the one next to him for her to sit. Archer resisted the urge to frown because the four-seater booth meant he’d have to sit by Jenna, whose lips were already fixed in a Cheshire cat grin.

“Good to see you, sis,” Jenna said. “You look a little tired. Late night?”

Lana’s strained smile returned. “A bit. Where’s Charles?”

“Oh, he had a conference call with the board of directors. We’ll see him tonight at Nana’s.”

“Won’t that be nice?” Lana turned to her father. “Where’s Mom?”

He snorted, pointing towards the kitchen. “Where she always is—knee-deep in dough and pastries. She’s making your favorite—chocolate croissants.”

Lana eyed him. “She only makes those when she’s trying to bribe me. What are you two up to?”

“Nothing, I swear,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “She’s just happy you’re here.”

“That’s not the way I hear it,” Jenna simpered, sipping her espresso. “She said you guys got into a fight last night. Mostly about your career, or lack thereof.”

Lana’s entire frame stiffened and Archer leapt in to avoid the ensuing shitstorm. “So, uh, Dr. Kane, Lana tells me you teach at Oxford?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing between the two sisters furtively. “And Delores said you’re an investment banker. I’m glad. It’s comforting to have someone at the table whose work is as boring as mine.”

“Right? How’d you land the job?”

At that, the older man’s eyes lit up and he launched into an exceedingly boring story, leaving Archer relieved to have avoided an explosion. However, it didn’t last long because about ten minutes into his tale, Jenna’s hand slid across Archer’s thigh. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from letting the shock show on his face and covertly grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard to get her to quit it. He put her hand back on her side of the leather seat, but it returned a moment later. Archer then lifted slightly and sat on her hand. She made a squeak and he resisted the urge to smile. He’d had way too many drunk wives try to seduce him on missions to deal with any of her nonsense.

They were saved when Delores came to the table with a huge basket full of fresh croissants of different flavors, beaming. “Morning. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Apparently not,” Jenna grumbled, finally getting her arm loose once Archer freed her.

“Those smell amazing,” Archer said, grabbing two and jamming them into his mouth, not even caring that the hot apple filling burned the roof of his mouth. “Is it too late to propose to you?”

Delores laughed, patting his shoulder. “Oh, you’re definitely a keeper, kiddo.”

She pulled up a chair to the edge of the booth and joined them. They ate and made small talk, with Delores leading the conversation and expertly avoiding any further spats between the Kane sisters. An hour breezed by and to Archer’s relief, Jenna made no further attempts to touch him.

Delores checked her watch, sighing. “Well, we’d better get moving. I have to prepare the house for the rest of the family. What time are you two going to be there, Lana?”

“Probably six.”

She smiled at her daughter, her dimples showing. “Great. It’s so good to see you, baby girl. I really do mean that. I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you.”

A cautious but genuine smile touched Lana’s lips. “Thanks.”

They stood up to go, but then Jenna interjected. “Oh! That reminds me. One more thing.”

Jenna dug into her purse and held something out to Archer. “Sorry, I forgot to give you back your hotel room key.”

Everyone froze. Archer staring at the blue card in her hand, his heart hammering wildly. “What?”

“I didn’t realize it was still in there after last night.”

Panic engulfed Archer’s entire brain. “What are you talking about? I…I didn’t see you last night. I never gave you my room key.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. You did, right after you told me you and Lana were in an open relationship.” She glanced at her sister, adopting a shocked look. “Why is everyone looking at me like that? Oh my God. Oh, no. You lied to me?”

By then, the damage was done. Lana stormed out of the bakery without another word and Archer squeezed his eyes shut for a second before racing after her.

“Lana. Lana, wait. Listen to me, I didn’t sleep with her. She’s lying because she knows it’ll ruin everything. Dammit, Lana, wait—”

He grabbed her wrist. She turned and punched him in the face harder than he could remember being hit. Pain exploded red spots across his eyes and he hit the concrete hard, too stunned to even catch himself. She stood over him, her beautiful face tranquil with fury.

“Go home, Archer. Now.”

She signaled a cab, got in, and disappeared down the street.

Archer stood up slowly, staring after the cab, his stomach colder than ice.

“Well, that was dramatic,” Jenna said, waltzing up beside him.

Archer’s hands balled into fists. He turned to her, his voice a growl. “What. The fuck. Is your goddamn problem?”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “Whoa, baby, calm down. I thought this would just make it easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“Look, don’t pretend like you weren’t interested in my offer. I saw the look in your eyes. You wanted to say yes, but you still felt loyal to my sister. Now you don’t have to be. She just dumped you.”

She stepped closer, placing one hand on his chest, tracing his lapel, her voice soft as a feather. “So why don’t you take all that pent up aggression and sexual frustration out on me? I can handle it. I’ll make it so worth your while that you won’t even miss my sister.”

Archer stared at the young, lovely girl before him and started to chuckle. “Y’know what’s funny?”

“What, handsome?”

“Lana could gain 600 lbs., develop a lisp, contract herpes, have halitosis, grow a second head, and I’d still choose her before I’d touch you with a fucking 39 ½ foot pole, you psychotic bitch. If you ever hurt Lana like this again, I will snap you in half and throw you in a dumpster with the rest of this city’s trash.”

He shoved past her and headed for the nearest cab, not even bothering to look back.

*

The doorknob to Lana’s room turned while she was standing in front of her suitcase, stuffing the remainder of her clothes inside it and zipping it closed. She withdrew her gun and fired at the wall without even turning her head.

“Get the fuck out, Archer.”

“No,” he said. “You’re not going to cut and run like you always do, Lana. Not until you hear what I have to say.”

She whirled, aiming at his head. “Hear what? More lies? More excuses? I’ve had enough of it, Archer. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing you here like you weren’t going to screw me over. You always do. That’s who you are. I don’t have to put up with it anymore. We’re done.”

Archer took a deep breath and walked forward slowly. “D’Angelo.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“The guy at the front desk. His name is D’Angelo. Can you put the gun away for thirty seconds and let him in here?”

“Why?”

“Just answer the question, Lana.”

After a long moment, she lowered the gun and placed it on the bed. “Thirty seconds.”

“Thanks.” Archer went to the door and opened it, revealing a twenty-something black guy who looked severely nervous after hearing the gunshot.

“D’Angelo,” Archer said, gesturing to Lana. “Tell her what you told me.”

“Uh, right,” he said, licking his lips. “Last night, a girl came in and said that her boyfriend Jack lost his room key. I was the one who checked you two in yesterday and I remembered he came in with a girl who looked a lot like her, so I gave her the extra key.”

“Thank you, D’Angelo. You can go.”

“Right.” The kid scurried off, shutting the door behind him.

Lana crossed her arms. “How much did you pay him to say that?”

“I figured you’d say that, so check your email.”

Lana scowled, but pulled out her phone and checked it. She found an email from Archer with a video attachment. It was security footage from the hotel, time-stamped at around nine o’clock the previous night. Her sister slunk up to the front desk and started talking to D’Angelo.

“Wow,” she murmured. “Fucking bitch.”

“I don’t like to admit when you’re right, but you’re right, Lana. Your sister is a fucking bitch.”

Lana tossed the phone on the bed. “Fine. I owe you an apology.”

“You owe my face an apology,” Archer said, rubbing the already purple bruise on his cheek. “I accept Visa, checks, and a very apologetic blowjob. Payable to the shittiest fake-boyfriend ever.”

Lana laughed hoarsely. “Make that shittiest real boyfriend ever. You’re the reigning champ of both titles.”

Archer shrugged. “Probably. But I didn’t sleep with her, Lana. I would never do that, not when this weekend was so important to you. And if you still want me to leave, I’ll go, but I had to make sure you were okay.”

She sank onto the bed, her hands limp in her lap, shaking her head. “No, I’m not. I can’t fix this, Archer. My mom will never let me hear the end of this, even if I prove that Jenna was lying. She’ll never look at you the same way again. How can I face my whole family with this hanging over my head?”

“Lana, what do you do for a living?”

She frowned. “What?”

“You’re a goddamn spy. You shoot terrorists and save entire countries. Grow a pair of fucking ovaries and deal with the fact that maybe it doesn’t matter what they think of you. Do you like who you are? If you do, then throw a goddamn parade. Some people die without ever liking who they are, and you do, so treat yourself better than this. The reason I loved you in the first place is because you don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks, especially me, so your family shouldn’t be any different. And the fact that I’m the one lecturing you about loving who you are is probably the most ironic thing to ever exist.”

“Probably,” she said, her eyes suddenly wide. “But, uh, rewind back to the sentence before that.”

Archer blinked at her. “What sentence?”

“The part about you loving me.”

Archer’s body went cold all at once. “I didn’t say that.”

She stood up, walking towards him, her hands behind her back, biting her bottom lip. “And I quote, ‘The reason I loved you in the first place is because you don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks,” etcetera.”

He coughed, his face flushing as he realized she was right. “To be fair, I had two flasks of scotch on the cab ride here and I’m pretty sure I’m a step away from being blackout drunk.”

“Asshole.” She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pressing her forehead to his. “You alcoholic, lying, cheating, self-centered, wonderful asshole.”

She kissed him and he nearly melted on the spot, which never happened except every time in the past when she kissed him. The kiss ended way too soon for his liking, but he still enjoyed what came after it.

“Thank you for doing this. It was a disaster, but thanks anyway.”

“Welcome,” he mumbled. “Besides, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve brought Cyril.”

She was laughing when he kissed her next.

*

Surprisingly, Lana didn’t send Archer home. He paid for a cab and it swung by her mother’s place just before her Nana’s second celebration was in full swing. He wanted to go in with her, but she made him stay put, which he did. Though he slipped a tiny microphone on the hem of her sweater dress so he could hear her conversation.

“I’m only here to say one thing,” he heard Lana say in that firm, no-nonsense tone of hers. “I could try to convince you that Jack didn’t sleep with Jenna, but it doesn’t matter. It’s my life and my relationship, and I’ll deal with it. He can be obnoxious and difficult and frustrating, but he’s got a heart and that’s what I need right now. If you can’t accept that, it’s your loss.”

A long silence fell. Archer chewed a hole in his lip as he waited. Then, the faint rustle of movement, as if someone had given Lana a hug.

“Bring him by for Thanksgiving. Bye, baby girl.”

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.”

Archer quickly stuffed the ear bud down into his pants’ pocket as Lana reappeared on the porch, walking with a confident stride and a rare, genuine smile towards the cab. She got in and he coughed, hoping to sound not-guilty.

“So, uh, how did it go?”

“Tch. Like you don’t know.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Lana. I’d be bald and played by Patrick Stewart if that were true.”

She held up the tiny mic between her first finger and thumb. “You were saying?”

He flinched, expecting a punch, but she just shook her head and stuffed it inside her purse. “I figured you were doing more than trying to grope my ass when you hugged me.”

“Hey, don’t sell me short. I was trying to grope you. I mean, have you seen your ass? It’s magnificent. A work of art. They should put it in the frickin’ Louvre. Ow! What?! That was a compliment, woman!”

Lana sighed. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“No.” A pause. “Well, yes, probably. But that’s what happens when you enter the—”

“Don’t. Say it.”

“…”

“…”

“DAAAAAAANGER ZONE! OW! GODDAMMIT, WOMAN, I’M GONNA BRUISE!”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> The last season pissed me off, and I like pretending these two could make it in the long run. Long live denial.


End file.
